Fic: "First Date (of sorts)", (Veronica, Logan, OC) G.
I have no idea where this came from. None.
Title: First Date (Of Sorts).
Author: Jacqui.
Rating: G, it doesn’t even rate a ‘pg’.
Character/Pairing: Veronica/Logan, OC.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Wanna know how you can tell? Because Logan is not married to Veronica. Or me.
Wordcount: 4,280.
Spoilers: None, really, it's set fifteen years or so after graduation, but there is NOTHING that references the series. At all. Unless you don’t know Logan and Veronica have a conflicting kind of relationship, in which case… oops, just gave that away.
Summary: It’s just coffee. That's what Veronica and Logan tell themselves as they try to go on a 'first date' fifteen years in the future.
*~*~*~*
FIRST DATE (of sorts)
*~*~*~*
Veronica’s hand shook as she brought the eyeliner up to her face.
“Coffee, huh?”
The voice came from the door and she breathed with it, took a second to calm herself before lowering the pencil again.
“Yes.” She spoke the words clearly as she looked at the mirror. “Just coffee.”
“It’s a school night, you know.” Bored, listless, it was the epitome of casual. “How long will you be out?”
“Like I could ever forget the joys of getting up early to make it to school on time? And we’ll be out as long as we’re out.”
“But…” Even staring straight forward, into her own eyes, Veronica could hear the nervousness behind the query. “…What if…?”
“It’s just coffee.” She sighed, swiveling the small stool around to face the door. “Don’t make this into anything more. Just coffee.”
“Mo-om.” One syllable drawn out into two, Veronica was fairly sure that was a talent reserved for teenagers alone, but her daughter was only ten. “It’s always ‘just coffee’, you always do this.”
She reached out to the left and pulled over the second stool, patting the top of it gently. Standing tall and sleek, her daughter leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed defiantly over her budding chest. A familiar set to her jaw.
“Steph, come here, sit.”
It took a few minutes of quiet staring between them before Steph pushed away from the wall with her hips, rolling her whole body into a wave of movement that suggested it took great effort. So much effort and patience to put up with her mother.
“I don’t always do this.” She could see the roll of her daughter’s dark eyes even as she held her chin with one hand. “You know I haven’t even looked at another man since… in a year.”
They avoided looking directly into each other’s eyes as the words ‘since the divorce’ floated, heavy and thick, between them. Steph’s mouth set in a stubborn line and Veronica knew it wasn’t over, even as she sat pliant and still and let Veronica raise the eye liner to her small face.
Carefully, gently, like they’d done a thousand times before, Veronica added the colors to her daughter’s face that made her look so many years older than she really was.
“Do you…?” Steph bit her lip and took a breath before continuing. “Do you really like him this time?”
Veronica couldn’t stop the smile or the blush that rose on her cheeks.
“Yes, I think I do.” A pause. “I really do.”
She chose a lighter shade of pink for Steph’s cheek, lighter than the red she had picked out for herself.
“Are you going to, you know, bring him home?”
Another sigh, coming from deep in her chest.
“It’s just coffee.” She couldn’t say the words enough. “Just a man and a woman going out for coffee, nothing more.”
As if repeating them often enough would make them true.
“What if?” But Steph wasn’t fooled; she was too smart for that. “What if it doesn’t work?”
Her hand shook again and Veronica clenched her fingers around the small brush, trying not to notice the over eager brightness of her daughter’s eyes. There was too much at risk here, for both of them, the tenuous hold they’d both gotten over the last few months.
“It’s just coffee, Steph.” God, she sounded so tired. “We’re taking it slow to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“I miss him.” Steph’s chin wobbled in her hand. “I miss dad.”
The hunger that fused through that one word, ‘dad’, echoed all the way through Veronica and she knew exactly what her daughter meant by it. She felt it herself. It made her wonder exactly how one man could have such a hold on two women like that, that the very thought of him made them both ache.
“I know you do.” She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the forehead in front of her, gently wiping the lipstick smudge away with her thumb. “I do, too. But you see him all the time, on weekends, on holidays.”
A flash through Steph’s eyes told Veronica all she needed to know. That’s not enough, it’s never enough.
“What if I said he had a girlfriend?” Steph pulled her head back. “What if I said every time I go over to Dad’s he has a new woman there? A different one every time?”
The words hit her physically and Veronica couldn’t breathe. She wanted to smile and tell her daughter that it was fine, that it was her father’s choice, they were divorced and he could see whoever he wanted and when.
But she couldn’t.
“Does he?” She could barely get the words out and hated being so weak. “I mean… did you see?”
It felt like betrayal all over again.
Veronica felt small fingers wrap around her own.
“No.” A small shake of Steph’s head made Veronica’s lungs clear. “But what if I did?”
She felt dizzy with relief.
“Then that would be a different story. But you’re not saying that. Thank god.”
They both smiled, nervous little giggle smiles.
Veronica ran a brush through straight, dark locks, twisting them into shining, flowing patterns that threaded through her fingers. She breathed in the slightly rich and fruity scent of shampoo.
“It’s too soon, Mom.”
Her hand paused.
“One year.” She stated clearly, putting the brush down. “It’s a very long time, Steph. Too long.”
“What if I’m sick and you’re not here?” Steph challenged, eyes bright. “What if I fall down and land on a sharp knife and cut myself? And bleed out all over the floor and die and you’re not here?”
Veronica closed her eyes and breathed, let the oxygen spread all the way out from her lungs to the very edges of her skin. It shook her, ached deep in a place that she’d tried not to notice. Her hands came up and cupped Steph’s chin, kept her face level with her own.
“Look, I know this hit you hard. I know you miss your dad.” She might have had her father’s eyes and his coloring, but her face, Steph’s face was all Veronica’s. “But it’s been hard on me, too. Do you understand that?”
They had the same facial structure, the same wobble in the chin.
“If you tell me you’re not ready for this, really tell me, then I won’t go out. I’ll call him and I’ll tell him it’s not the time and I’ll never see him again. If that’s what you want.” She didn’t blink. “But please, Steph, don’t do that. Don’t do that to me.”
Her daughter said nothing and Veronica could see twelve months of pain and tears and angry yelling.
“Let me have this, Stephanie, please.”
If she wasn’t looking, Veronica might have missed the twitch of Steph’s face.
But she was looking and she did see and she could suddenly breathe easier.
“So.” Steph shrugged, the picture of casual pre teen again. “He called you up out of nowhere, huh?”
Veronica smiled as she reached for the brush again.
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop the warm glow. “I haven’t seen him for so long, but I knew it was him.”
They fell into an easy pattern, mother and daughter, nerves and tension falling away and drifting to a comfortable give and take. The careless banter of girls swapping secrets in front of a mirror.
“Tell me.” Steph whispered around the hand mirror she held patiently for Veronica. “Tell me again.”
Veronica rolled her eyes as she blinked.
“I was twelve.” The lipstick rolled on smooth and thick. “And he had a crush on me even then.”
The mirror shook as her daughter giggled.
“And you were in a football uniform!”
“Soccer.” She insisted with a blank face. “It was soccer, honey.”
As if that story hadn’t gotten the full work out over the last few days, her daughter following her around the house begging to be told again and again. Ever since she’d gotten that phone call, sitting at her desk, carefully studying photos as she casually hit the speaker and barked out her name.
Then his voice.
It had been too long, too damned long since she’d heard the deep, insistent tone of it, but she recognized it immediately as it echoed her own name back at her. Her hands had trembled as she’d clutched the receiver to her ear greedily.
They weren’t starting again, not after everything, not after the mountains of issues they both had between them, the insurmountable histories; they were just having coffee.
“You still like him.” Steph’s voice broke her out of her reverie, small and accusing. “You still like him after everything…”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” It should be worrisome that she found herself being more truthful with her daughter than herself. “I really don’t know. That’s what tonight is all about.”
The soft pout returned. It was more than simple preteen rebellion, Veronica knew it, she looked at her daughter and saw all the confusion of the last year and the time before it. She’d tried so hard to keep her daughter young and happy, but real life had always had a way of coming right in and smacking her around.
Apparently, it ran in the family.
She’d tried to hide the worst of it from Steph, but she hadn’t done a particularly stellar job on that front. Steph had been there for the worst of it, the tears, and the frustrations. The times when Veronica had been ready to forgive and forget all the bad times and just fall back into a miserable marriage just to keep the peace.
They’d both managed.
“I worry about you, Mom.”
And now Steph was too old to be ten.
“You don’t worry about me.” She pretended to scoff, as if the words hadn’t hit hard. “That’s not your job. Your job is to finish your homework, brush your teeth and go to bed without giving your grandfather grief about chocolate.”
“But Mo-om!”
“You’ve already had dessert.” At least in one thing she could remain certain. “That’s my last word on the matter. You may have that man wrapped around your little finger, but not me, young lady. Don’t think I won’t tell him that before I leave.”
“Well, then.” Small, cupids bow of a mouth, painted glossy red, set into a grim line of determination. “You have to follow rules, too. It’s a school night.”
Veronica smiled patiently.
“We went over this. I’ll be back in time to get plenty of rest, you’ll be perfectly on time for school.”
“And no PDAs this early on.”
“Stephanie Lynn!” She could practically feel her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “That’s none of your business. And if I have to tell you it’s just coffee one more time, you’re never going to get that pony.”
“Just coffee.” Complete with eye roll, the drawl of the voice suggested Steph didn’t quite believe her. “Right. Seriously, drink your coffee, if it goes well, maybe you can hold hands.”
She laughed out loud.
“Oh really?” And nudged her daughter. “But if I remember correctly, Steph, he’s a really good kisser. Like, really.”
“Oh, mom! Gross!” It came out like a spurt of laughter, unbidden and surprising, light in their teasing, but it was actually closer to the original purpose of disgust and Veronica knew she won that round. “I don’t want to know.”
“Really good, Steph.”
A small hand pushed her shoulder back.
“Stop it. You don’t know anything about kissing.” Steph insisted. “I was made in a tube. In a lab. You’re old and you don’t do that.”
They laughed and Veronica gave her face one last look in the mirror.
“You’re really okay with this, then?”
The mood in the room kept shifting from tense to easy, up and down, thick then thin, that Veronica was certain that they were both going to end up passing out from air deprivation sooner or later. She watched as a small hand reached out and pushed the bottle of perfume she’d lined up back into all the other bottles. Some random, gentle fragrance that she couldn’t remember buying.
“Here.” It was a careful selection, the next bottle, a rite passed with great solemnity. “This one is better.”
Steph sprayed a cloud and Veronica closed her eyes as she leaned forward, feeling the light particles coat her face and neck. It wasn’t the most expensive bottle, but the instant the scent hit her nostrils, she was thrown into a confusing mix of memories and emotions.
***
“Hey.”
Veronica had to stop, had to physically stop as she walked out the front door of her house to see him leaning against his car. It was black and sleek and she felt a sudden pang of disappointment that it was so bland, even though she knew the X-Terra had long since perished.
Logan still knew how to lean, though.
“Veronica.” His eyes lit up when she got close and they were still dangerously dark pools of emotion. “You look…”
He didn’t finish and she didn’t ask him to.
There were too many possibilities. Different. Good. Worse. Older. The same. Each one was a minefield of possibilities that could shatter the small thread of politeness they were treading on. Even in the half dark of twilight, she could see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the lines that were beginning to etch over his face.
The face she always thought would be boy smooth.
He was infinitely different and she didn’t want to imagine the ways in which she looked different to him.
“Logan.” She smiled, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to hold open the car door for her. “A Benz? Isn’t that a little too every people for you?”
But he was already distracted, she saw him close his eyes and his whole head shift in the wake of her pushing past him to sit down. Her eyes followed the line of his neck as his chin lifted.
“I always loved that perfume on you.”
His fingers lingered above hers on the open door and Veronica’s eyes flicked up to the small window on the second floor, the one with the light shining from behind it. A small voice echoed in her ear, nervous and worried and frightened.
She pulled her hand free.
“Let’s go.”
***
“So, how are you, Veronica?”
She closed her eyes and her head bowed down, her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, letting the warmth seep through to her fingers. The café was small and crowded enough to be a welcome cover for any awkward silences, but quiet enough to hold conversations.
Quiet enough for him to say her name like that, like he cared. It brought back too many other memories, when her name had been flung at her like an insult, sharpened and ready to slice deep. She shouldn’t be here; she should be at home nursing her wounds and rebuilding her life with her daughter. She shouldn’t be sitting across the table from Logan and letting his voice remind of her happier times.
“Good.” She managed with a tight nod. “Well, up and down, really. You know.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up again, hopeful and expectant. “Things are going well?”
He slid his hand across the table and pulled one of hers into it. For a moment, she let his warm skin cover hers. It shouldn’t be familiar; she shouldn’t just fit right into him like that. It was a small thrum of desire. Then she pulled away.
“Not really, Logan, no.” Her voice had grown weak and shaking and didn’t hold the edge she’d hoped. “It’s been a hard few years. Really hard. I should go. We shouldn’t be here…”
His hand shot out and caught her wrist.
“Veronica, please.” The edge in his voice was all desperation, the abandoned little boy who always needed her, always managed to crack through her shells and break her down. “Just sit here and finish the damn coffee. Okay? Just… please talk to me.”
Even as she told herself why she shouldn’t, Veronica allowed herself to be pulled back.
***
It was awkward. It was beyond awkward. They sat there, looking at every possible thing in the room except each other, looking at nothing but each other, looking down at their cups, trying to come up with things to say.
The usual first date premises were out, they soon realized, it was completely useless to ask such banal things as what each other’s favorite movie and colors and flavors of ice cream were. They still knew each other too well.
Shared histories don’t make for easy introductions.
“Did you…?” She looked up at his hesitant voice. “I mean… have you been seeing anyone lately?”
He sounded afraid of the answer.
“No.”
Veronica flashed back to Steph, the slightly too breezy suggestion of her ex husband dating any and all women he could, and she was torn with the sudden desire to ask if Logan had anyone extra special in his life.
She kept her mouth firmly shut.
The press had a field day with his philandering ways, they always had and they probably always would. She had long ago stopped trying to figure out if there was any kernel of truth to their stories. It was definitely on the list of things that were too uncomfortable to talk about on their first date.
She couldn’t do this; she couldn’t sit here and pretend that they were a normal couple, just going out for coffee. Coffee? Exactly how dense was she? They couldn’t pretend and they never should have tried. It came out in strange moments, such as when he’d ordered for both of them, without even needing to ask what she’d wanted. And he’d gotten it right.
Logan was trying at least, trying so hard.
“What about Stephanie?”
Veronica’s eyes widened as she smiled.
“Is she seeing anyone? She’s only ten, Logan.”
The confusion that melted away into shock made her smile deeper. He was still too easy to tease.
“No! I didn’t mean…” He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “How is she?”
“She’s coping.” Veronica swallowed to cover the shiver in her voice. “I don’t think she’s coping as well as she’d like us all to think. The divorce hit her hard, harder than she lets on sometimes.”
The skin around Logan’s eyes tightened and his fingers clamped down on the cup he held.
Good going, Veronica, she thought.
On the list of things that shouldn’t be discussed on a first date, surely the underlying psychological effects your recent divorce might have had on your ten year old daughter who may or may not be irreversibly traumatized by the thought of you having coffee with an old flame was way up there.
Yup, awkward.
“So.” She smiled instead. “How’s Trina?”
A safe topic.
“Oh.” The instant ease on Logan’s face was nearly dizzying. “She’s great. She had twins, can you believe it?”
“Twins?” She echoed. No, she really couldn’t believe it. “I mean, I heard she was pregnant, but…”
“Yeah.” And she knew that look in his eye; it made her ache. “They’re three months old.”
Unbidden, unasked, and completely unwelcome, she had images of Logan nursing a small infant in his arms, cooing softly to it, bouncing softly on his feet as he whispered to a dark, downy head. As he hummed soft meaningless sounds way back in his throat.
It took her to a time when Stephanie was only weeks old, when she’d been that small and had been in her father’s arms.
Veronica bit back the groan as it all hit her deep down in the pit of her belly.
“Names?” At least she managed to sound casually interested.
“Liam and Sebastian.”
“Oh.”
She was close to losing it, she could tell. Maybe Stephanie had been right, in all her ten year old wisdom, maybe it was too early to be doing this, maybe she should never have been here in the first place.
Maybe she just shouldn’t have been here with Logan.
True to form, he looked suddenly concerned, his eyes narrowed. She knew he was looking right through her, right down deep into all the places she tried to hide. He always did that and she hated it. It was foolish to think she could have a first date with someone she practically grew up with.
“We can do this, you know.”
He said it softly, but firmly.
And she almost believed him.
***
They walked.
She couldn’t remember a time when they’d done that. Just simply walked along the pavement, side by side. Her hands were balled into little red fists, pushed deep into her pockets as she tried not to show how much she was shivering, her arms pulled close to her body.
Of course he saw.
“Here.”
She knew what he was doing before he shrugged his shoulders out of his coat, before he flicked a small smile at her, his eyes glowing with the knowledge that she would never get used to the seasons here, so far away from Neptune.
The jacket landed, dark and large and heavy, over her shoulders in a gust of air and aftershave. The familiarity of it winded her. The warmth of him seeped into her skin, through the layers of her clothes and into her back, down her arms and through the collar of her neck.
She tried desperately not to snuggle into it. She did.
“Thanks.”
It had been too long since she’d been this comfortable surrounded by anything masculine.
A bright flash blinded them both and she felt him tense up beside her, tightening like a coiled rope. Her hand on his arm stopped him and she saw his face smooth out into forced relaxation.
“It’s okay.” She nudged her shoulder into his. “At least we know who the ‘mysterious blonde’ on the front cover tomorrow will be this time.”
They walked and Veronica didn’t pull her hand away when he lifted it off his arm and held it in his.
***
Three hours.
It had only been three hours from the time he’d picked her up from her house to the time he was dropping her off. They were still nervous, careful around the edges, but in a different way to when they’d first looked at each other. They’d grown marginally comfortable, marginally easy together.
Which, given their history, was better than either of them could have hoped for.
“Veronica.” Logan held the door open for her as she got out of the car. “I really enjoyed tonight.”
“Yeah.” She smiled back, biting down on a million words. “Me too.”
The silence as they looked at each other turned into expectation that dripped from her tongue.
“I, uh…” He fidgeted with the keys in his hand. “I mean… can I…?”
Could he?
“I’ll call you.”
It wasn’t a resounding yes, but the delight that sparked in his eyes at her words was overwhelming. She felt almost stingy with her answer and wondered what his reaction would have been if she’d been more forthcoming.
“How about…?” His hands came together in front of him and she watched his face smooth out in glee. “Next time, I mean… can I come in? We could all…?”
Veronica turned towards the door, then back to him.
“I don’t know, Logan.” She owed him honesty, if nothing else. “She’s only ten. I don’t want to start something if…”
Her sentence fell away with the last of his happy expression.
“Yeah.” He might have been older, but he still pouted. “Of course. Sure. Right.”
“Be patient.” This time she reached out to him. “When we know what we’re doing, then we’ll let everyone know, okay?”
His fingers curled around hers and she felt breathless.
“I missed you, Veronica.”
She made him hungry and he made her weak willed and that had always been their problem.
“God, I missed you, too.” Her feet failed in their primary directive of walking away. “Logan, I…”
Her words were pushed back into her mouth, given no avenue of escape as his lips came down. She felt it slide all the way through her, a million kisses, years of it, all the way back to being that seventeen year old girl in the girls’ bathroom.
A small whimper of need formed in the back of her throat.
She could feel his hand come down softly on the back of her neck, pulling her forward, felt her body becoming limp and pliant against his. This wasn’t what she’d wanted, she knew she’d meant her promise to herself that she’d keep it distant and formal and light until they both knew, until they both understood what was happening.
She’d meant it then, but she couldn’t remember it now.
“Mo-om!”
Veronica choked as she pulled back, her cheeks already burning red.
“Stephanie!” She glared. “You were supposed to be in bed.”
Her daughter stood, hands on hips, half way down the garden path as she glared at them both. Her eyes angry and betrayed and all Veronica could do was blush as she slowly stepped away from Logan, her left hand dropping from his shoulder and her right hand carefully smudging the lipstick away from the corner of his mouth.
She could hear him chuckling. The bastard.
“You promised!” Steph continued to glare. “It was just coffee!”
“Go to bed.” She hissed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Steph huffed as she turned around. “You can pick me up at five, tomorrow, Dad.”
Logan chuckled deeper.
“Goodnight, Steph, sweetie.”
***
THE END.
Comments are like crack, hook a sista up?
Title: First Date (Of Sorts).
Author: Jacqui.
Rating: G, it doesn’t even rate a ‘pg’.
Character/Pairing: Veronica/Logan, OC.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Wanna know how you can tell? Because Logan is not married to Veronica. Or me.
Wordcount: 4,280.
Spoilers: None, really, it's set fifteen years or so after graduation, but there is NOTHING that references the series. At all. Unless you don’t know Logan and Veronica have a conflicting kind of relationship, in which case… oops, just gave that away.
Summary: It’s just coffee. That's what Veronica and Logan tell themselves as they try to go on a 'first date' fifteen years in the future.
*~*~*~*
FIRST DATE (of sorts)
*~*~*~*
Veronica’s hand shook as she brought the eyeliner up to her face.
“Coffee, huh?”
The voice came from the door and she breathed with it, took a second to calm herself before lowering the pencil again.
“Yes.” She spoke the words clearly as she looked at the mirror. “Just coffee.”
“It’s a school night, you know.” Bored, listless, it was the epitome of casual. “How long will you be out?”
“Like I could ever forget the joys of getting up early to make it to school on time? And we’ll be out as long as we’re out.”
“But…” Even staring straight forward, into her own eyes, Veronica could hear the nervousness behind the query. “…What if…?”
“It’s just coffee.” She sighed, swiveling the small stool around to face the door. “Don’t make this into anything more. Just coffee.”
“Mo-om.” One syllable drawn out into two, Veronica was fairly sure that was a talent reserved for teenagers alone, but her daughter was only ten. “It’s always ‘just coffee’, you always do this.”
She reached out to the left and pulled over the second stool, patting the top of it gently. Standing tall and sleek, her daughter leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed defiantly over her budding chest. A familiar set to her jaw.
“Steph, come here, sit.”
It took a few minutes of quiet staring between them before Steph pushed away from the wall with her hips, rolling her whole body into a wave of movement that suggested it took great effort. So much effort and patience to put up with her mother.
“I don’t always do this.” She could see the roll of her daughter’s dark eyes even as she held her chin with one hand. “You know I haven’t even looked at another man since… in a year.”
They avoided looking directly into each other’s eyes as the words ‘since the divorce’ floated, heavy and thick, between them. Steph’s mouth set in a stubborn line and Veronica knew it wasn’t over, even as she sat pliant and still and let Veronica raise the eye liner to her small face.
Carefully, gently, like they’d done a thousand times before, Veronica added the colors to her daughter’s face that made her look so many years older than she really was.
“Do you…?” Steph bit her lip and took a breath before continuing. “Do you really like him this time?”
Veronica couldn’t stop the smile or the blush that rose on her cheeks.
“Yes, I think I do.” A pause. “I really do.”
She chose a lighter shade of pink for Steph’s cheek, lighter than the red she had picked out for herself.
“Are you going to, you know, bring him home?”
Another sigh, coming from deep in her chest.
“It’s just coffee.” She couldn’t say the words enough. “Just a man and a woman going out for coffee, nothing more.”
As if repeating them often enough would make them true.
“What if?” But Steph wasn’t fooled; she was too smart for that. “What if it doesn’t work?”
Her hand shook again and Veronica clenched her fingers around the small brush, trying not to notice the over eager brightness of her daughter’s eyes. There was too much at risk here, for both of them, the tenuous hold they’d both gotten over the last few months.
“It’s just coffee, Steph.” God, she sounded so tired. “We’re taking it slow to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“I miss him.” Steph’s chin wobbled in her hand. “I miss dad.”
The hunger that fused through that one word, ‘dad’, echoed all the way through Veronica and she knew exactly what her daughter meant by it. She felt it herself. It made her wonder exactly how one man could have such a hold on two women like that, that the very thought of him made them both ache.
“I know you do.” She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the forehead in front of her, gently wiping the lipstick smudge away with her thumb. “I do, too. But you see him all the time, on weekends, on holidays.”
A flash through Steph’s eyes told Veronica all she needed to know. That’s not enough, it’s never enough.
“What if I said he had a girlfriend?” Steph pulled her head back. “What if I said every time I go over to Dad’s he has a new woman there? A different one every time?”
The words hit her physically and Veronica couldn’t breathe. She wanted to smile and tell her daughter that it was fine, that it was her father’s choice, they were divorced and he could see whoever he wanted and when.
But she couldn’t.
“Does he?” She could barely get the words out and hated being so weak. “I mean… did you see?”
It felt like betrayal all over again.
Veronica felt small fingers wrap around her own.
“No.” A small shake of Steph’s head made Veronica’s lungs clear. “But what if I did?”
She felt dizzy with relief.
“Then that would be a different story. But you’re not saying that. Thank god.”
They both smiled, nervous little giggle smiles.
Veronica ran a brush through straight, dark locks, twisting them into shining, flowing patterns that threaded through her fingers. She breathed in the slightly rich and fruity scent of shampoo.
“It’s too soon, Mom.”
Her hand paused.
“One year.” She stated clearly, putting the brush down. “It’s a very long time, Steph. Too long.”
“What if I’m sick and you’re not here?” Steph challenged, eyes bright. “What if I fall down and land on a sharp knife and cut myself? And bleed out all over the floor and die and you’re not here?”
Veronica closed her eyes and breathed, let the oxygen spread all the way out from her lungs to the very edges of her skin. It shook her, ached deep in a place that she’d tried not to notice. Her hands came up and cupped Steph’s chin, kept her face level with her own.
“Look, I know this hit you hard. I know you miss your dad.” She might have had her father’s eyes and his coloring, but her face, Steph’s face was all Veronica’s. “But it’s been hard on me, too. Do you understand that?”
They had the same facial structure, the same wobble in the chin.
“If you tell me you’re not ready for this, really tell me, then I won’t go out. I’ll call him and I’ll tell him it’s not the time and I’ll never see him again. If that’s what you want.” She didn’t blink. “But please, Steph, don’t do that. Don’t do that to me.”
Her daughter said nothing and Veronica could see twelve months of pain and tears and angry yelling.
“Let me have this, Stephanie, please.”
If she wasn’t looking, Veronica might have missed the twitch of Steph’s face.
But she was looking and she did see and she could suddenly breathe easier.
“So.” Steph shrugged, the picture of casual pre teen again. “He called you up out of nowhere, huh?”
Veronica smiled as she reached for the brush again.
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop the warm glow. “I haven’t seen him for so long, but I knew it was him.”
They fell into an easy pattern, mother and daughter, nerves and tension falling away and drifting to a comfortable give and take. The careless banter of girls swapping secrets in front of a mirror.
“Tell me.” Steph whispered around the hand mirror she held patiently for Veronica. “Tell me again.”
Veronica rolled her eyes as she blinked.
“I was twelve.” The lipstick rolled on smooth and thick. “And he had a crush on me even then.”
The mirror shook as her daughter giggled.
“And you were in a football uniform!”
“Soccer.” She insisted with a blank face. “It was soccer, honey.”
As if that story hadn’t gotten the full work out over the last few days, her daughter following her around the house begging to be told again and again. Ever since she’d gotten that phone call, sitting at her desk, carefully studying photos as she casually hit the speaker and barked out her name.
Then his voice.
It had been too long, too damned long since she’d heard the deep, insistent tone of it, but she recognized it immediately as it echoed her own name back at her. Her hands had trembled as she’d clutched the receiver to her ear greedily.
They weren’t starting again, not after everything, not after the mountains of issues they both had between them, the insurmountable histories; they were just having coffee.
“You still like him.” Steph’s voice broke her out of her reverie, small and accusing. “You still like him after everything…”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” It should be worrisome that she found herself being more truthful with her daughter than herself. “I really don’t know. That’s what tonight is all about.”
The soft pout returned. It was more than simple preteen rebellion, Veronica knew it, she looked at her daughter and saw all the confusion of the last year and the time before it. She’d tried so hard to keep her daughter young and happy, but real life had always had a way of coming right in and smacking her around.
Apparently, it ran in the family.
She’d tried to hide the worst of it from Steph, but she hadn’t done a particularly stellar job on that front. Steph had been there for the worst of it, the tears, and the frustrations. The times when Veronica had been ready to forgive and forget all the bad times and just fall back into a miserable marriage just to keep the peace.
They’d both managed.
“I worry about you, Mom.”
And now Steph was too old to be ten.
“You don’t worry about me.” She pretended to scoff, as if the words hadn’t hit hard. “That’s not your job. Your job is to finish your homework, brush your teeth and go to bed without giving your grandfather grief about chocolate.”
“But Mo-om!”
“You’ve already had dessert.” At least in one thing she could remain certain. “That’s my last word on the matter. You may have that man wrapped around your little finger, but not me, young lady. Don’t think I won’t tell him that before I leave.”
“Well, then.” Small, cupids bow of a mouth, painted glossy red, set into a grim line of determination. “You have to follow rules, too. It’s a school night.”
Veronica smiled patiently.
“We went over this. I’ll be back in time to get plenty of rest, you’ll be perfectly on time for school.”
“And no PDAs this early on.”
“Stephanie Lynn!” She could practically feel her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “That’s none of your business. And if I have to tell you it’s just coffee one more time, you’re never going to get that pony.”
“Just coffee.” Complete with eye roll, the drawl of the voice suggested Steph didn’t quite believe her. “Right. Seriously, drink your coffee, if it goes well, maybe you can hold hands.”
She laughed out loud.
“Oh really?” And nudged her daughter. “But if I remember correctly, Steph, he’s a really good kisser. Like, really.”
“Oh, mom! Gross!” It came out like a spurt of laughter, unbidden and surprising, light in their teasing, but it was actually closer to the original purpose of disgust and Veronica knew she won that round. “I don’t want to know.”
“Really good, Steph.”
A small hand pushed her shoulder back.
“Stop it. You don’t know anything about kissing.” Steph insisted. “I was made in a tube. In a lab. You’re old and you don’t do that.”
They laughed and Veronica gave her face one last look in the mirror.
“You’re really okay with this, then?”
The mood in the room kept shifting from tense to easy, up and down, thick then thin, that Veronica was certain that they were both going to end up passing out from air deprivation sooner or later. She watched as a small hand reached out and pushed the bottle of perfume she’d lined up back into all the other bottles. Some random, gentle fragrance that she couldn’t remember buying.
“Here.” It was a careful selection, the next bottle, a rite passed with great solemnity. “This one is better.”
Steph sprayed a cloud and Veronica closed her eyes as she leaned forward, feeling the light particles coat her face and neck. It wasn’t the most expensive bottle, but the instant the scent hit her nostrils, she was thrown into a confusing mix of memories and emotions.
***
“Hey.”
Veronica had to stop, had to physically stop as she walked out the front door of her house to see him leaning against his car. It was black and sleek and she felt a sudden pang of disappointment that it was so bland, even though she knew the X-Terra had long since perished.
Logan still knew how to lean, though.
“Veronica.” His eyes lit up when she got close and they were still dangerously dark pools of emotion. “You look…”
He didn’t finish and she didn’t ask him to.
There were too many possibilities. Different. Good. Worse. Older. The same. Each one was a minefield of possibilities that could shatter the small thread of politeness they were treading on. Even in the half dark of twilight, she could see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the lines that were beginning to etch over his face.
The face she always thought would be boy smooth.
He was infinitely different and she didn’t want to imagine the ways in which she looked different to him.
“Logan.” She smiled, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to hold open the car door for her. “A Benz? Isn’t that a little too every people for you?”
But he was already distracted, she saw him close his eyes and his whole head shift in the wake of her pushing past him to sit down. Her eyes followed the line of his neck as his chin lifted.
“I always loved that perfume on you.”
His fingers lingered above hers on the open door and Veronica’s eyes flicked up to the small window on the second floor, the one with the light shining from behind it. A small voice echoed in her ear, nervous and worried and frightened.
She pulled her hand free.
“Let’s go.”
***
“So, how are you, Veronica?”
She closed her eyes and her head bowed down, her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, letting the warmth seep through to her fingers. The café was small and crowded enough to be a welcome cover for any awkward silences, but quiet enough to hold conversations.
Quiet enough for him to say her name like that, like he cared. It brought back too many other memories, when her name had been flung at her like an insult, sharpened and ready to slice deep. She shouldn’t be here; she should be at home nursing her wounds and rebuilding her life with her daughter. She shouldn’t be sitting across the table from Logan and letting his voice remind of her happier times.
“Good.” She managed with a tight nod. “Well, up and down, really. You know.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up again, hopeful and expectant. “Things are going well?”
He slid his hand across the table and pulled one of hers into it. For a moment, she let his warm skin cover hers. It shouldn’t be familiar; she shouldn’t just fit right into him like that. It was a small thrum of desire. Then she pulled away.
“Not really, Logan, no.” Her voice had grown weak and shaking and didn’t hold the edge she’d hoped. “It’s been a hard few years. Really hard. I should go. We shouldn’t be here…”
His hand shot out and caught her wrist.
“Veronica, please.” The edge in his voice was all desperation, the abandoned little boy who always needed her, always managed to crack through her shells and break her down. “Just sit here and finish the damn coffee. Okay? Just… please talk to me.”
Even as she told herself why she shouldn’t, Veronica allowed herself to be pulled back.
***
It was awkward. It was beyond awkward. They sat there, looking at every possible thing in the room except each other, looking at nothing but each other, looking down at their cups, trying to come up with things to say.
The usual first date premises were out, they soon realized, it was completely useless to ask such banal things as what each other’s favorite movie and colors and flavors of ice cream were. They still knew each other too well.
Shared histories don’t make for easy introductions.
“Did you…?” She looked up at his hesitant voice. “I mean… have you been seeing anyone lately?”
He sounded afraid of the answer.
“No.”
Veronica flashed back to Steph, the slightly too breezy suggestion of her ex husband dating any and all women he could, and she was torn with the sudden desire to ask if Logan had anyone extra special in his life.
She kept her mouth firmly shut.
The press had a field day with his philandering ways, they always had and they probably always would. She had long ago stopped trying to figure out if there was any kernel of truth to their stories. It was definitely on the list of things that were too uncomfortable to talk about on their first date.
She couldn’t do this; she couldn’t sit here and pretend that they were a normal couple, just going out for coffee. Coffee? Exactly how dense was she? They couldn’t pretend and they never should have tried. It came out in strange moments, such as when he’d ordered for both of them, without even needing to ask what she’d wanted. And he’d gotten it right.
Logan was trying at least, trying so hard.
“What about Stephanie?”
Veronica’s eyes widened as she smiled.
“Is she seeing anyone? She’s only ten, Logan.”
The confusion that melted away into shock made her smile deeper. He was still too easy to tease.
“No! I didn’t mean…” He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “How is she?”
“She’s coping.” Veronica swallowed to cover the shiver in her voice. “I don’t think she’s coping as well as she’d like us all to think. The divorce hit her hard, harder than she lets on sometimes.”
The skin around Logan’s eyes tightened and his fingers clamped down on the cup he held.
Good going, Veronica, she thought.
On the list of things that shouldn’t be discussed on a first date, surely the underlying psychological effects your recent divorce might have had on your ten year old daughter who may or may not be irreversibly traumatized by the thought of you having coffee with an old flame was way up there.
Yup, awkward.
“So.” She smiled instead. “How’s Trina?”
A safe topic.
“Oh.” The instant ease on Logan’s face was nearly dizzying. “She’s great. She had twins, can you believe it?”
“Twins?” She echoed. No, she really couldn’t believe it. “I mean, I heard she was pregnant, but…”
“Yeah.” And she knew that look in his eye; it made her ache. “They’re three months old.”
Unbidden, unasked, and completely unwelcome, she had images of Logan nursing a small infant in his arms, cooing softly to it, bouncing softly on his feet as he whispered to a dark, downy head. As he hummed soft meaningless sounds way back in his throat.
It took her to a time when Stephanie was only weeks old, when she’d been that small and had been in her father’s arms.
Veronica bit back the groan as it all hit her deep down in the pit of her belly.
“Names?” At least she managed to sound casually interested.
“Liam and Sebastian.”
“Oh.”
She was close to losing it, she could tell. Maybe Stephanie had been right, in all her ten year old wisdom, maybe it was too early to be doing this, maybe she should never have been here in the first place.
Maybe she just shouldn’t have been here with Logan.
True to form, he looked suddenly concerned, his eyes narrowed. She knew he was looking right through her, right down deep into all the places she tried to hide. He always did that and she hated it. It was foolish to think she could have a first date with someone she practically grew up with.
“We can do this, you know.”
He said it softly, but firmly.
And she almost believed him.
***
They walked.
She couldn’t remember a time when they’d done that. Just simply walked along the pavement, side by side. Her hands were balled into little red fists, pushed deep into her pockets as she tried not to show how much she was shivering, her arms pulled close to her body.
Of course he saw.
“Here.”
She knew what he was doing before he shrugged his shoulders out of his coat, before he flicked a small smile at her, his eyes glowing with the knowledge that she would never get used to the seasons here, so far away from Neptune.
The jacket landed, dark and large and heavy, over her shoulders in a gust of air and aftershave. The familiarity of it winded her. The warmth of him seeped into her skin, through the layers of her clothes and into her back, down her arms and through the collar of her neck.
She tried desperately not to snuggle into it. She did.
“Thanks.”
It had been too long since she’d been this comfortable surrounded by anything masculine.
A bright flash blinded them both and she felt him tense up beside her, tightening like a coiled rope. Her hand on his arm stopped him and she saw his face smooth out into forced relaxation.
“It’s okay.” She nudged her shoulder into his. “At least we know who the ‘mysterious blonde’ on the front cover tomorrow will be this time.”
They walked and Veronica didn’t pull her hand away when he lifted it off his arm and held it in his.
***
Three hours.
It had only been three hours from the time he’d picked her up from her house to the time he was dropping her off. They were still nervous, careful around the edges, but in a different way to when they’d first looked at each other. They’d grown marginally comfortable, marginally easy together.
Which, given their history, was better than either of them could have hoped for.
“Veronica.” Logan held the door open for her as she got out of the car. “I really enjoyed tonight.”
“Yeah.” She smiled back, biting down on a million words. “Me too.”
The silence as they looked at each other turned into expectation that dripped from her tongue.
“I, uh…” He fidgeted with the keys in his hand. “I mean… can I…?”
Could he?
“I’ll call you.”
It wasn’t a resounding yes, but the delight that sparked in his eyes at her words was overwhelming. She felt almost stingy with her answer and wondered what his reaction would have been if she’d been more forthcoming.
“How about…?” His hands came together in front of him and she watched his face smooth out in glee. “Next time, I mean… can I come in? We could all…?”
Veronica turned towards the door, then back to him.
“I don’t know, Logan.” She owed him honesty, if nothing else. “She’s only ten. I don’t want to start something if…”
Her sentence fell away with the last of his happy expression.
“Yeah.” He might have been older, but he still pouted. “Of course. Sure. Right.”
“Be patient.” This time she reached out to him. “When we know what we’re doing, then we’ll let everyone know, okay?”
His fingers curled around hers and she felt breathless.
“I missed you, Veronica.”
She made him hungry and he made her weak willed and that had always been their problem.
“God, I missed you, too.” Her feet failed in their primary directive of walking away. “Logan, I…”
Her words were pushed back into her mouth, given no avenue of escape as his lips came down. She felt it slide all the way through her, a million kisses, years of it, all the way back to being that seventeen year old girl in the girls’ bathroom.
A small whimper of need formed in the back of her throat.
She could feel his hand come down softly on the back of her neck, pulling her forward, felt her body becoming limp and pliant against his. This wasn’t what she’d wanted, she knew she’d meant her promise to herself that she’d keep it distant and formal and light until they both knew, until they both understood what was happening.
She’d meant it then, but she couldn’t remember it now.
“Mo-om!”
Veronica choked as she pulled back, her cheeks already burning red.
“Stephanie!” She glared. “You were supposed to be in bed.”
Her daughter stood, hands on hips, half way down the garden path as she glared at them both. Her eyes angry and betrayed and all Veronica could do was blush as she slowly stepped away from Logan, her left hand dropping from his shoulder and her right hand carefully smudging the lipstick away from the corner of his mouth.
She could hear him chuckling. The bastard.
“You promised!” Steph continued to glare. “It was just coffee!”
“Go to bed.” She hissed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Steph huffed as she turned around. “You can pick me up at five, tomorrow, Dad.”
Logan chuckled deeper.
“Goodnight, Steph, sweetie.”
***
THE END.
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